


sell my heart for some advice

by Nearly



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Therapy, buck goes to therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29335887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearly/pseuds/Nearly
Summary: “I’ve actually been thinking a lot about what you said in our last session, and how I...hide my true feelings from others,” Buck says, “I’m starting to think you might be right.”Dr. Copeland smiles. “Okay, let’s start there.”aka, Buck goes to therapy and realizes he wants to talk about his feelings.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 362





	sell my heart for some advice

**Author's Note:**

> i started this 20 minutes after watching 4x02, and then didn't finish for two weeks lmao so canon divergent after 4x02 
> 
> title from A Troubled Mind by Noah Kahan, and thank you to [yawnralphio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawnralphio/pseuds/yawnralphio) for being the best beta :)

_ “I’ve actually been thinking a lot about what you said in our last session, and how I...hide my true feelings from others,” Buck says, “I’m starting to think you might be right.”  _

_ Dr. Copeland smiles. “Okay, let’s start there.”  _

* * *

Buck likes Dr. Copeland. He wasn’t too sure about the therapy idea at first, but now that he’s gotten settled into it—it’s working. It’s  _ helping _ . Dr. Copeland pushes him when he needs to be pushed, holds back when he doesn’t, and lets him move through things at his own pace. He’s not where he wants to be, not yet, but he’s starting to feel like it’s possible for him to get there. 

He’s also starting to feel like maybe he’s finally ready to confide in his team, his family. He doesn’t want to hide from them anymore. Because he has, for so long, without even realizing it; he dodged questions about his parents or his sister or himself, back when he joined the team. He covered up by being loud and boisterous, joking about sex and food and daredevil thrills, made himself the center of attention in a way that made everyone feel like they knew him. It wasn’t even intentional, he just—

He doesn’t like when people pry. He doesn’t like being prodded for information. He isn’t used to being asked questions,  _ real  _ questions, and when he joined the 118 he was sure that none of them would care enough to find out much more than what he gave them, anyway. 

But then they did. They cared, and they asked, and they prodded, but never harshly. Never in a way that made him feel like shutting down and closing up. He can see that now; it just took him a little while to get here. 

Dr. Copeland has helped with that too. She’s talked to Buck about why he feels the need to hide himself away, put on a persona, even subconsciously, of someone he feels is easier to love—or at least, easier to handle. He’s working on it. Baby steps, right?

* * *

_ “I think that I should,” Buck starts, fiddling with the edge of the iPad case. “Tell them, I mean.”  _

_ “Is that something you want?” Dr. Copeland asks. “Something you’re ready for?”  _

_ “Yeah,” Buck says. “Yes. I—I think I want to tell them.”  _

_ Dr. Copeland hums thoughtfully. “Opening up to the people you trust is never a bad thing.” _

* * *

He tells Maddie first, when the world has finally sorted itself out enough to allow them to see each other in person. It’s not exactly easy, but it’s easier to start with her, because she’s his sister. Buck knows she wouldn’t judge him for this. 

So when she comes over for lunch and a face-to-face catch up, she asks him if anything new has happened that she doesn’t know about, and he blurts; “I’ve been seeing a therapist.” 

Maddie blinks. “What?” 

“The woman I’ve been talking to lately,” Buck explains, hesitantly, “She’s my therapist.” 

“Oh,” Maddie says, and then smiles slowly as the words actually register. “That’s wonderful!” 

Buck isn’t even sure what he was waiting for, because he knew Maddie would react just like this, but he still feels like he can breathe a little easier after she’s said it. He relaxes slightly, shoots her a small smile, and turns to grab a couple of plates from his cabinet so they can start eating. 

“It’s been good,” Buck says, setting the plates down in front of Maddie. “I wasn’t sold on it at first, but she’s been really great at, uh—helping me work through some things.”

He’d hardly call that opening up, but it’s something, right? 

Maddie seems to sense that he’s trying, and she doesn’t push him. She just reaches across the table, grabs his hand for a brief moment, and says, “I’m happy that you’re moving forward, Buck. You deserve it.” 

Then she takes her hand back and reaches for the takeout containers she’d brought, starting to dish things out onto the plates and starting up a steady stream of questions about how work had been on his last shift. She doesn’t try to press for more just yet, and Buck relaxes further into knowing she’ll let him do this in his own way.

It’s barely a step, but he realizes Dr. Copeland was right again; he feels a little better now that someone else knows. 

* * *

_ “You said you spoke with your sister,” Dr. Copeland says, “how did that go?” _

_ “It was good,” Buck answers, “She’s been really supportive. I mean, I knew she would be. I’m not sure what I was so worried about.”  _

_ “Fear isn’t always logical, Evan,” she reminds him, “I’m glad you have someone in your corner.”  _

* * *

Everything feels a little lighter after he’s confided in Maddie, and getting up to go to work is a little easier than it was the week before. They’d ended up talking well into the afternoon, edging into evening, and Buck had just decided to make her dinner, too. He’d found that once he started, talking to her about what he’d been dealing with wasn’t as hard as he thought. He even found himself talking about Eddie, and—with only minimal teasing—admitting the huge crush he had on his best friend. But that conversation ended as quickly as it started, as soon as she started encouraging him to talk to Eddie about it.

Telling Maddie about his crush was one thing. Telling  _ Eddie? _ No way. Baby steps, Buck. Baby steps.

But still, talking to Maddie had helped. He’s got a bit of a bounce back in his step, and by the time he walks into the busy station, he feels more like himself than he has in a while. 

“What’s got you so peppy this morning, Buckaroo?” Hen asks, raising an eyebrow with a good-natured smile as he practically jumps the last two steps to get to the loft.

“Have a good talk with your special friend?” Chimney teases. Buck huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. 

“Hilarious, but no,” he answers, turning towards the kitchen to grab some coffee, “and I told you, it’s not like that with us. She’s just my therapist.” 

Okay, that’s not how he planned on saying that. Buck stills for a brief second, half filled mug in hand, processing the fact that he just dropped that bombshell without warning. 

“You’re seeing a therapist?” Eddie asks, his voice cutting through the sudden quiet. He sounds surprised, but also...happy? 

“Uh,” Buck starts. He tries to relax a little, and resumes pouring his coffee until he’s got a proper cup. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to her for a little while now.” 

He turns around to look at them, finally, curling his hands around his mug and leaning back against the counter. Hen is sitting on one of the couches, arm propped up on the back so she can look at him, and she’s grinning widely. Chim still looks like he’s processing the information, trying to fit it together with the puzzle pieces he  _ thought  _ had been pointing at Buck’s secret crush. Eddie and Bobby both look slightly dazed, like they weren’t expecting that, but he watches as a smile grows on Bobby’s face and a smaller, softer one follows from Eddie a second later.

“That’s great, Buck,” Bobby says. He claps him on the shoulder as he slips past him to get coffee for himself, and just like that, the tension breaks. Hen’s laugh rings out as Chim moves to sit with her, still looking a little confused, and Eddie wanders over to stand with Buck at the counter. 

“Has it been helping?” Eddie asks quietly, like he’s trying not to be overheard. His shoulder brushes against Buck’s and Buck leans into the touch, letting his guard fall a little more.

“Yeah,” he answers, and then echoes Maddie’s words from the day before; “I’m moving forward.” 

“Good,” Eddie says, and there’s that soft, disarming smile again, doing funny things to Buck’s heart. “I’m glad.” 

Baby steps, Buck reminds himself, and takes a sip of his coffee.

* * *

_ “I did it,” Buck says proudly, “I talked to my team.” _

_ “Good!” Dr. Copeland smiles. She looks proud of him too. “I take it that went well?”  _

_ “Yeah, it was great,” Buck says, grinning brightly, “Bobby—my captain—he’s happy for me, I think. The rest of them are, too.” _

* * *

With Eddie, it’s different. Nothing really changes. Nothing big, at least. Buck isn’t sure what he expected, but it’s not this; Eddie seems to relax even further into their friendship, loosens up in Buck’s space, a little more open than before. They already told each other practically everything, but now—now Eddie offers up anecdotes more often than he used to. He talks about himself more. It’s not like he never did before, especially with Buck, but the way he tosses things into conversations now seems more like he’s offering an opportunity, a chance for Buck to return the favour and talk if he needs to. 

He doesn’t ask any more questions after that day in the firehouse kitchen. Unlike Maddie, he never asks how a session went, never even brings it up if Buck doesn’t initiate that conversation. But despite that, Eddie is a solid presence in his life and Buck knows, without having to be told, that Eddie is there for him.

It almost makes Buck want to tell him everything—how it’s just so easy, with Eddie. Easy to be himself. Easy to feel safe. Easy to let himself  _ feel.  _

But he can’t. Not yet. He’s been talking to Dr. Copeland about setting boundaries for himself, not forcing himself into things before he’s ready, and—he’s not ready for this. He’s not sure what she’d say if he admitted that it’s because he’s terrified of Eddie not wanting the same thing. He’s not sure he’s interested in finding out. 

For now, Buck is alright with what he has. Sure, maybe he leans a little more into Eddie when their shoulders touch, maybe he nurses his beer a bit too long at the Diaz house just so he can sit a little longer with him, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. It  _ doesn’t.  _

* * *

_ “And what about Eddie?” Dr. Copeland asks.  _

_ Buck stills. “...What about him?”  _

_ “Have you considered telling him how you feel?”  _

_ Buck rubs a thumb across his birthmark, glances down and away from the camera. “I don’t know.” _

* * *

The thing is, Buck has considered it. And god, he wants to. He wants to spill it all at Eddie’s feet, break himself into pieces if he has to, and hope with everything he has that Eddie will pick them up. But he  _ can’t.  _

He’s not prepared for that. He’s not prepared for the inevitability of rejection, of Eddie leaving his pieces on the floor where he dropped them, of having to put himself back together afterwards. What he has with Eddie, right now, is enough. 

Eddie’s friendship is all he needs. Who cares if he wants more? 

When he tells Maddie that, she says, “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” 

“I can’t tell him, Mads,” Buck insists. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. He’s not ready. 

“Why not?” She asks, and he wants to say,  _ I don’t want things to change.  _

“What if he says no?” he says instead. Maddie tilts her head and gives him a long, searching look. 

“What if he says yes?” 

* * *

_ “And what about Eddie?” Dr. Copeland asks.  _

* * *

Buck wants to tell him. He wants to tell Eddie, and maybe he’s not ready, but he’s so damn tired of waiting. He’s so tired of being one step behind, watching for Eddie’s next move, just to know which way to step. He doesn’t want to lose what he has, and the thought terrifies him—but he doesn’t want to hide what he wants, anymore. 

He hopes, desperately, that Eddie will understand that. Eddie understands so much of him, so much of what he is and what he wants to be. Even if Eddie can’t feel the same way about him, maybe at least he can  _ understand.  _ And maybe that’ll be enough. 

Eddie makes it easy. He makes everything so easy. Buck clings to that feeling as he steps into the firehouse, trying to work up his courage.  _ I’m moving forward, _ he reminds himself. If nothing else, he’s moving forward. 

They’ve got a night shift, and most of the team is already there, so Buck hopes that maybe he can get this over with before anyone else catches on. He finds Eddie in the locker room, and the station is quiet around them. Buck takes a calming breath and steels himself for whatever comes next. 

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie greets him, flashing him a smile, and starts digging around in his locker. 

“Hey,” Buck answers, just like always, cursing himself when his voice cracks on the simple word. Eddie looks back at him, concerned. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m great,” Buck assures him quickly. He crosses over to his own locker, willing himself to stop acting like an idiot. And then he takes the plunge. “Actually, I was wondering—”

“Cap’s got dinner going!” Chimney chooses that moment to announce, popping his head in through the locker room door. “Better get up here before we eat it all.” 

The moment shatters, and takes Buck’s courage with it. Eddie turns back to him once Chim has disappeared, opening his mouth like he wants to ask Buck to continue, but Buck just shakes his head. 

“Nevermind,” he says, and leaves Eddie standing in the locker room by himself. 

* * *

_ “...What about him?” _

* * *

Later, he can’t help but feel like he’s overthinking this. He bounces back and forth, caught between wanting to tell Eddie everything and wanting to cling to what he already has, to try and keep it from slipping through his fingers. 

Maybe Maddie is right, and he’s not giving Eddie enough credit. 

Or maybe Buck is right, and everything he’s built will fall apart around him. Either way, he’ll never know unless he gets a definitive answer, right? And if he wants an answer, he has to ask. 

God, he wishes it were that simple. 

He’s jittery through dinner, and finds himself praying for an alarm when he starts getting concerned looks from the rest of his team. He tries to stop himself from bouncing his leg like he wants to, and reaches for the salt shaker instead, only to start twisting the lid on and off with his fingers. He sets that down too. 

By some stroke of terrible luck, they make it through dinner without a call. There’s no interruption to take the eyes off him when he starts to think too hard. Buck does his best to tune in to the conversation, but his mind keeps drifting back to the half-step forward he’d taken earlier, with Eddie—

He avoids Eddie’s gaze when he glances over at him. Buck hops up and starts clearing plates, just for something to do, and smiles tightly at Bobby when he thanks him for it. He feels off kilter, like that half-step had thrown him off balance. He’s either got to follow through or step back, but he’s caught somewhere in a strange middle ground. 

“Buck?” Eddie asks quietly, coming up behind him carrying another stack of plates. “Seriously, are you okay?” 

Buck sets the plates down in the sink. He braces himself against the counter and chews on his lip, head hanging low. He thinks about saying yes, assuring Eddie he’s fine, because he  _ is,  _ really. He’s just also not. 

“Is this about what you were trying to ask earlier?” Eddie presses, just a little. It’s more of a push than Buck has felt from him since the therapy announcement, but he can hear the concern in Eddie’s voice and he can’t find it in himself to bristle at it. 

_ Forward,  _ he tells himself. 

“Yes?” he says, and he hates that it sounds like a question. “Nothing bad, I just—” 

—and the alarm goes off. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Buck mutters in disbelief. Eddie grimaces. 

“Later?” 

Buck nods, and tries for a smile when Eddie reaches out to squeeze his shoulder gently. 

“Later,” he agrees, but he doesn’t know if it’s the truth. 

* * *

_ “Have you considered telling him how you feel?”  _

* * *

The rest of the night is practically back to back calls, and Buck can’t find space between them to squeeze in a conversation. Even in the beautiful, glorious break they get after wrapping up an apartment fire, he’s not fast enough; Eddie’s already out of the truck and on the phone with Christopher before Buck has the chance to open his mouth. He should’ve known, really. Chris always calls on overnight shifts at nearly the exact same time, to say goodnight to his father, and sometimes whoever else happens to be hanging around. It’s a routine.

The fact that he knows that makes him ache.

They’re off again nearly the moment Eddie hangs up, and all they have time for is a quick fist bump and an apologetic smile before they’re tearing through the streets with sirens wailing. It’s chaotic and exhausting and by the time the shift is over, Buck feels like he’s barely had a moment to breathe. He doesn’t think he can handle whatever happens if he tells Eddie right now. He’s too tired. 

So he slips quietly out of the station before Eddie can catch his eye, and goes home alone. 

Except once he’s home, freshly showered and flopped out on his bed because he figured his exhaustion would drag him into sleep sooner rather than later, he can’t get himself to stop thinking. And, well—that’s not usually a great combination for him. 

Buck feels frustration crawling its way back up his throat. He feels like he’s choking on missed opportunities, a vice grip around his throat that wants him to  _ tell him, tell him, tell him— _

He growls out a curse into the empty darkness of his apartment, and tosses his arm over his eyes. He wants to tell Eddie everything, but it’s three in the morning and they should both be sleeping off that whirlwind of a shift. It’s three in the morning, and he’s tired, and he should probably wait until tomorrow when he can talk to Dr. Copeland and get her advice on all of this. Except he thinks she’d probably tell him to do what he feels ready for. She’d probably ask him what he wants. She’d probably tell him that right now it’s three in the  _ goddamn morning— _

* * *

_ “Have you considered telling him how you feel?” _

* * *

He  _ wants  _ to tell Eddie, and to hell with the what-ifs. He’s not waiting anymore. He’s done guarding his heart from the one person who owns it so completely. 

Buck practically throws himself off the bed in his haste to shimmy back into his jeans, grab his keys from the shelf by his bed, and get himself out the door. The frustration fuels him, tipping past its boiling point into determination, hot and steady in his chest. No more missed opportunities, Buckley. No more baby steps. 

Now or never, take the leap, follow through. Move  _ forward.  _

His keys are in the ignition before he even registers that he’s in the car, and he’s tearing out of the lot before he can chicken out and change his mind. This is a terrible plan, barely even a plan at all, but it’s what he’s got. And Buck is great at working with what he’s got, right?

He pulls into Eddie’s driveway, and almost falters. But then he reminds himself, it’s just a half-step. He’s halfway there already. One foot in front of the other. He’s knocking on the door before he can think himself in circles again, sharp and insistent. 

When the door swings open to show Eddie standing there, looking adorably sleep rumpled, Buck remembers with the tiniest tinge of regret that it’s three in the morning. 

“Buck?” Eddie asks, squinting a little like he’s still half asleep. “You didn’t call.” 

“I know,” Buck says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t really think this through. I just really needed to talk to you.” 

Eddie frowns, nose scrunching up like it does when he’s confused, and then it seems to click. “Is this about earlier?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Buck says. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs harshly, blowing out a breath. “I mean, it is, but it’s not  _ just  _ about that. It’s about you, kind of? And me?”

“Me?” Eddie perks up a little, like this conversation is starting to wake him up. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Buck knows that he’s asking because if he’s done something, he wants to fix it. He wants to apologize, and put everything to rights, and it looks like he’s already gearing up to get started, even half asleep at three in the morning in his pajamas. But he hasn’t done anything wrong—this is all Buck, and he has to get it out before Eddie says anything, because he’s not sure he will otherwise. 

“It’s not like that,” Buck assures him quickly, and if anything Eddie just looks more confused. “You’ve been perfect, actually. I’ve just been talking to my therapist about you—about us—and she’s been saying that I shouldn’t keep things to myself so much—”

“Woah,” Eddie says, reeling from the sudden deluge, a little shocked and  _ definitely  _ awake now. “Buck, hold on—”

“—no, listen,” Buck presses. He’s been stewing in this all day, and he’s not stopping now. If he’s going to shatter into pieces he’d rather do it on the front step than in Eddie’s living room. “We’ve been talking about how much I hide from you, from the team, and I just...I don’t want to  _ do  _ that anymore, Eddie. It’s exhausting, because you’re so  _ good  _ and so  _ incredible  _ and you make everything so easy—”

“Buck—” Eddie tries again. Buck ignores him.

“—you make everything  _ so easy.  _ It’s easy to be around you and it’s easy to talk to you and it’s easy being a part of your little family, if I am. I want to be,” Buck says, and it’s true. He wants it so badly he feels like he might suffocate under the weight of it. 

“Of course you are, Buck,” Eddie says, so softly. 

Buck freezes, and the moment stretches between them. It’s three in the morning and both of them are strung out and exhausted from a hectic shift, and Eddie looks so open and gentle as he stands silhouetted against the light in his doorway, and Buck is trying desperately not to crack open on his porch. 

“Yeah?” he breathes. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees immediately, sounding more sure of himself than Buck has ever heard. “Practically since the day I met you.” 

At that, the sting of anticipated rejection fades. The reassurance that he’s wanted, that he’s needed, that he’s  _ loved— _ it seals up his cracks with gold. He doesn’t feel quite so close to shattering, anymore. 

What he does feel is tired, strung out from a shift that went too long and the unrelenting anxiety of the day. Happy, of course, but tired. Eddie must see it on his face because a moment later, he’s stepping aside and opening the door a little wider to give Buck room to pass. He holds out a hand, bridging the gap between them.

“Do you want to come in?” 

Buck smiles and steps inside, takes Eddie’s hand, and closes the door behind them. 

* * *

_ “Thanks, Dr. Copeland. See you next week.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> drop a comment if u love me


End file.
